How the hell did this happen? This was anything that I could have expected. Thank you for the surprise, God. I really liked it. Can you note the sarcasm?
One blink to fight the poison’s haze, and the rain-slicked alley vanished. No more choking gutter stench, no cooling corpses—just silk sheets whispering against my skin and sunlight filtering through gauzy curtains.
I bolted upright in a massive bed, heart slamming like I’d just dodged another blade.
Countless mories surged inside my brain as I shook my head in confusion.
This can’t happen with !
A full-length mirror glead across the opulent chamber, all gold-trimd wood and velvet drapes.
I stumbled over, bare feet sinking into plush rugs, and stared. Silver hair cascaded down my back like molten moonlight, framing olive eyes that burned with confusion.
Did I transmigrate?
Into a new world?
Lean muscles under pale skin, my face sharp and androgynous—beautiful, sure, but too damn pretty. I snarled at my reflection, baring teeth. Why couldn’t I get a more manly mug? This pretty-boy assassin vibe ain’t cutting it. Why did the curse remain with even after my death?
Even in my previous life, I had an androgynous face, often confused for a woman. Although, I used it to carry my assassination missions, but that didn’t an I liked it. In fact, I hated it. If possible, I thought that it might change now... not that I expected, but we all have our wishes, right?
I wore a thin silk shirt, unbuttoned enough to show defined abs, and loose trousers that hung low on my hips. Flexing my fingers, I waved a hand through the silver strands, admiring the shine despite myself. Not bad, Leon... I am talking about the hair. Or... whoever the fuck I am now.
mories flooded in—not mine, but his. Alexander Farrel, crown prince of the sprawling Farrel Empire. I’d transmigrated straight into the pages of those trashy novels I devoured between hits.
Yeah, assassins read too—don’t judge. This was a glittering realm of towering obsidian spires piercing storm-torn skies, mist-shrouded forests alive with whispering magic, and cutthroat politics laced with ABO dynamics. Alphas, Betas, Ogas—scent glands, heats, the works. Magic crackled in the air here, raw and electric.
Okay, what the fuck?!
I am not scared of this place, but... who the fuck wants to do a lot of things?! I am the fucking male lead!
"Why did I have to be transmigrated here?"
I paced the marble-floored room, cool stone sending chills up my bare feet with each step. Deep breaths filled my lungs with lavender-scented air, thick from blooming vines curling up the walls.
Crown prince, the mories whispered. Most powerful man in the world, destined to awaken as the top-tier Alpha—male lead in this twisted romance fantasy. I’d sweep in the plucky commoner heroine, so doe-eyed Oga with hidden powers. Honestly, I have forgotten the heroine’s na. But I am pretty sure that I would be able to recall her na if I hear her na once.
Together, we’d topple the villainess in the classic arc—sches exposed, love triumphant. ? The brooding hero? I flexed in the mirror again, silver hair swaying. This body’s got the looks—lean, lethal. Might as well play the part. But do I want to?
But the villainess... my fiancée. OG Alexander—Original Goods, that arrogant prick whose mories buzzed in my skull like angry wasps—despised her down to his bones.
Lady Elaine Klageter, all ice-blue eyes and razor ambition, daughter of a duchy. The emperor had forced the betrothal to seal shaky alliances, chaining them together in a marriage neither wanted.
She sched in shadows, poisoning rivals and whispering betrayals; he brooded in response, plotting her downfall.
Man, with this type of appearance... I am sure that this body can’t brood. If it did, it would look like an idiot.
The emperor didn’t give a damn about their hatred—just results. Expose Elara’s plots, let the heroine shine with her pure heart and forbidden powers. That was the turning point. Truth dropped like a guillotine, and even the emperor relented, dissolving the engagent for ’true love.’
True love?
Don’t joke! I had no care for true love!
Speaking of the emperor—she was a woman. Alpha to her core, towering and commanding, ruling the Farrel Empire with an iron fist.
This world flipped everything on its head. Before presentation— that brutal ritual—folks got terms by birth sex—son for boys, daughter for girls. Hit those fevered days, and bam—Alpha or Oga rewrote it all.
Ogas slipped into ’female roles—heats, nesting, softer strengths. Alphas claid ’male’ dominance—ruts, protection, raw power. It didn’t matter if they were n or won.
Pronouns stuck to man or woman regardless, but scents and instincts? They ruled everything. Sa-sex bonds were as common as breathing; hell, OG Alexander’s alpha father—a fierce woman who beca the emperor—had claid his oga mother, another woman whose gentleness was sothing that the whole empire talked about.
As for the betas, their division is akin to the division of n and won. n were n, and won were won—no differentiation, no other biology. Simple.
I took a deep breath, the lavender air steadying my racing pulse, then slumped back onto the massive bed. Silk sheets pooled around like cool waves, cradling my weary body.
A crystal jug of water glead on the bedside table, condensation beading down its silver stand. Throat parched from the poison’s ghost—or maybe this body’s dry mouth—I snatched it up and drank deeply. Cool liquid rushed down, quenching the fire, droplets spilling onto my thin shirt.
Confusion swirled thicker than the morning mist outside the arched windows. What the hell do I do in this world? Play the lovesick Alpha prince? Woo the heroine, ditch the villainess fiancée, and rule the empire? Honestly, I had no interest in ruling.
I set the jug down with a clink, silver hair falling over my olive eyes.
"I should first scout the whole palace. Let’s see how this body’s parents behave with him."
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